Giving Way
by LoupEtoile
Summary: A Hogwarts story tailing the quietest of a quartet known as 'The Marauders'. Starting at the day he was bitten, skipping to his first year at Hogwarts in 1971, and ending in 1978. Following Remus through the social and emotional struggles he faced growing up. Years 1-7. Marauders' era. SB/RL & JP/LE.
1. Chapter 1

**Giving Way (Chapter One)**

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**Blurb: **_Remus Lupin was the quiet type. - Marauders' Era, Hogwarts years one through seven following Remus. (SB/RL, JP/LE.)_

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Harry Potter or any of the franchise._

**Author's Note:** _Here's my take on Remus. :-) Hope you enjoy, this is gonna be a long story. Updates will be weekends._

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It was a chilly evening on the seventeenth of March, in the year 1965. Winter was dying on one of its final days of the year, and the buzz of Spring was tangible in the air.

A fog hung low in the atmosphere of the quiet, tidy neighborhood where a mother crow was building a nest atop a tree in a lonely backyard. She let out a warning cry to her mate, who was studiously plucking bits of straw from a windowsill.

Remus John Lupin was a five year old boy with fair, sandy blond hair, and expressive hazel eyes. He had a wooden chair from the dining table pressed up against the wall next to the windowsill, a quill and piece of parchment held tightly in his small hands.

He tilted his head and smiled at the crow that was picking the straw that he and his mother had laid out. It looked up at him with its dark, ominous eyes and jerked its head in the direction of its crying mate. Remus smiled wider as he watched the bird quickly gather the last of the straw and sweep up into the air, soaring over to his mate with the nest-building materials.

"It took the straw!" the small boy called over his shoulder with excitement. His mother was in the kitchen setting up the dinner table, awaiting her husband's return. He was staying overtime that night at the Ministry of Magic, as he had been for the past two weeks since a particularly disturbing case at work.

Remus threw open his window with a bit of struggling, and hastily began a scrawled drawing of the bird he had seen. He drew the outline of the windowsill, the view of the tree (with bits of scribbled grass underneath) with the newly-placed nest on one of its topmost branches.

He looked up occasionally, to compare the scenery's likeness to his drawing, and at some point Hope Lupin strode into the room unbeknownst to the child. She watched him draw, with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration for a few moments, before he finally sat back with a smile on his face.

"That's beautiful!" Hope said in a warm, happy voice, startling the boy into sitting upright and turning around to face her.

Remus nodded knowingly, pointing out to the nest. "I think one of them should be named Remus Junior, since we have the same birthday," he explained, motioning to the baby birds, whose heads would occasionally pop up from the nest.

Hope nodded in agreement as her eyes scanned the parchment where her son had drawn their backyard. "And one should be named Romulus."

Remus bobbed his head excitedly. "Daddy can name the other one," he said decisively as he began slowly writing the decided upon names above the bird nest, lips pressed together and eyes slightly narrowed as he wrote each letter deliberately.

Hope nodded in agreement, frowning at the mention of her husband and peering out the door, toward the hallway. Lyall Lupin had been unlike himself that past two weeks, returning home very late into the evening looking nervous and behaving very grumpily. Remus had taken notice and had been trying many different methods to cheer up his anxious father.

Lyall was not very often stressed by work, but when he was, he did not like to tell Hope exactly why. Hope had lived her entire life with a sort of awareness of the other half of the world - the magical side to it all, but Lyall had been the one to introduce her to it in full. To prove to her that the sensations, the things she saw, really were there; that she was not the only one with this sensitivity to this…_energy_. To magic.

There were still things however that he seemed to hesitate to tell her. She knew that magical, dark creatures existed, and she knew at times it was not as simple as banishing things like ghouls as was Lyall's usual agenda. He had begun to worry her; he had even begun mentioning that it might be best for the three of them to move.

She had attempted to hide the general stress it had caused within the household from Remus, but he was an exceptionally perceptive child. He'd taken to drawing her pictures when she seemed particularly down.

Remus smiled at his mother as he hopped down from his seat on the wooden chair. He grabbed the chair by one of the railings along the back, tugging it along the rug over the aged hardwood of his bedroom toward the kitchen. "Can I have a chocolate?" he asked idly as he thumped it over the split in the doorway, dragging it across the linoleum floors through the kitchen as his mother followed with a watchful look.

"After dinner," she said in a slightly chiding tone. He sent her a dimpled, impish smile in response which she returned impulsively, crow's feet forming at the edges of her eyes.

"I'm excited for Easter. Daddy and I saw a rabbit the other day," he said as he shoved the chair half-under the table, pausing to correct its position to be like the others. "When we went to the park with Anna," he explained as hopped up into the stool at the kitchen's bar. He folded his arms over the countertop, resting his chin on top as his mother peered in the oven at the dinner; lasagna, one of Remus's father's favorites.

The front door swung open before Hope could respond, revealing an exhausted-looking Lyall Lupin.

"Daddy!" Remus shouted eagerly as he lifted his head, hopping from the stool at the bar and darting into the living room. His father was leaning back against the front door, locking it with his spare hand as he scrubbed his face with his other.

"Hey," Lyall greeted his son gently, a smile brightening the man's tired features as his hand fell to his side.

"Mummy said you could name the last baby crow in the backyard," Remus explained as he lead his father in toward the kitchen from the entryway. The walls switched from tan to pale green as they headed through the archway into the kitchen again. The wizard shrugged off his robes, tossing them on to a hook by the doorway of the kitchen as he stepped inside.

"Yeah?" Lyall asked as he took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose and forcing a smile as his wife turned to face him. Remus made a 'mhm' noise of confirmation and continued to chatter animatedly to his father as his parents finished up setting out dinner.

Lyall said very little as the sun set that night, growing quieter as the night stretched on. Remus didn't seem to notice the dark looks his parents exchanged after dinner. He showed his father a few of the pictures he had drawn, encouraging him to name a few of the animals.

Remus's bedtime rolled around at about nine thirty, but he managed to stretch it to about ten o' clock to finish the show he was watching on the telly. As the credits to the old cartoon rolled, Remus picked himself up, rubbing his tired eyes as the operatic end theme played.

_"Linus and his friends must go, so we leave you with a song,_

_"We're all kind of sad to go, glad to know it won't be long..._

_"Lion-hearted friendships don't end, we'll all be back and then..._

_"Linus and his friends will go, on with the show a-gain!_"

The young boy remembered to push the button on the machine to shut it off before he headed off to sleep, eyelids struggling as he hopped into his room, his bare toes digging into the familiar rug.

He yawned, stumbling toward his bed and falling on to the mattress. He took a deep breath, focusing intently on the energy he could feel buzzing around himself, and lifted one hand. With a flick of his wrist, the switch to turn off the lights shifted downward, the lights flicking out obediently.

Smiling, very pleased with himself, the hazel-eyed boy snuggled under the duvet covers, leaving his window open to enjoy the cool wind that blew in. He sucked in a deep breath of the fresh air, pulling the blankets up to his shoulders and squeezing his eyes closed.

* * *

The full moon hung swollen in the sky, its milky light spread over the darkened neighborhood. The family of crows in the Lupins' backyard were nestled against each other as a cool wind blew, rustling leaves in the yard and bringing strange scents upwind.

There was nothing but the quiet crunch of leaves underfoot sharp, hooked claws as a large, muscled predator stalked through the forest just by the small house. Smoke rose from the chimney as the massive werewolf stepped partially out into the yard under the glow of the moon.

Its eyes, teeth and claws reflected under the light, its teeth bared as it drew in sharp, angry breaths, its shoulders shuddering slightly with each one.

In the deadly near-silence, something seemed to snap within the great beast. It launched forward, its back claws leaving thick grooves into the hardened, late-Winter forest floor. It broke into the clearing, startling the crow family into a chorus of screeching calls.

It didn't falter in its movement as it loped across the lawn, a snarl building in the back of its throat as it threw itself effortlessly into an open window. It smashed apart the top of the wood and glass, being too large to fit in the opening that had been left.

The child in the bedroom sat suddenly upright, his eyes round in exhausted horror as he stared what was surely a night terror right in the eyes.

The wolf couldn't seem to help itself as it tossed back its head in a decidedly humanistic sort of barking laugh. A scream rose from the child's lips as he threw himself off of the bed backwards, hitting the ground with a thud. The lights began to flicker, to the wolf's absolute shock, the building beginning to shake and shudder. A glass of water from the bedside table rose up from its resting place, throwing itself into the beast's skull and shattering glass across his face.

The wolf stumbled back, an infuriated snarl rising from his lips as noises of consciousness began to stir from down the hall. The wolf steeled himself, blood dripping down his muzzle now as he bared his teeth and the child faced him in petrified silence, the room beginning to shake more violently.

The wolf stalked around the bed, loosing one furious roar before lunging forward a single time, knowing that he had no time to play.

Remus let out a blood-curdling scream as pain, like a thousand razor-sharp, fiery knives, shoved through his shoulder, coursing straight into his veins. His mind gave to unconsciousness before the pain could intensify, and the bedroom around him ebbed to blackness.

* * *

Remus woke with a start, gasping for breath, cool sweat plastering his fringe to his forehead.

The eleven year old boy ran a hand roughly through his hair, peering out the window of his room in the topmost floor of his house.

The neighborhood outside was dark, with streetlights illuminating the sidewalk. It was a densely populated neighborhood. They were likely to move again soon; places like this never lasted long.

And it was only August.

He peered around the largely unfamiliar space in the dark. It was their third move that year. He shuddered as a tight feeling encompassed his chest, and reached over to his bedside table with a slightly tremoring hand as the adrenaline rush from the nightmare began to fade. He snatched up the book he was reading, pulling it toward himself.

Remus stared down in the dark, allowing his supernaturally enhanced vision to adjust to the lighting after several blinks. He ran his finger along the spine of the book, a quiet smile quirking up the corners of his tired lips as he pulled it open to the correct page. He didn't have any bookmarks unpacked yet - they'd all gotten lost in the bottom of one of his boxes of books - but he recited the page number he was on in his head before he slept so he could recall.

He thumbed the final pages to the correct spot, sighing as the tension flitted from his mind as his eyes scanned the first few sentences of the page, seeking out where he had been. The protagonist - a sixteen year old girl - had just broken free of the castle where she was enslaved, with the help of a sorceror with an Eastern name. She was hiding behind a thorn bush now, as the master's dogs tried to sniff her out.

It was a muggle story, which often ended up being Remus's favorites. The wizarding community was too casual about the presence of magic. They didn't include the exhilarating wonder that muggle books did with it; magic was commonplace, _normal_ to wizards. But it was something Remus would never really get to experience, so he found it easiest to relate to the muggle tales of magic.

He winced at that final thought, his fingers tightening around the edges of his book. He would never get to live within the wizarding community, despite his natural talents. He would never get to use a wand; he would never get to treat magic so casually. He'd practiced wandless magic for years now, causing things to float or move, or to make fires from his fingertips.

But he'd never go to Hogwarts. He'd never get a job like his father. He'd never make friends who were like him. He was special, he was different, but he had to live the most ordinary life because he was...

Sick.

That was what his mother called it, anyway.

He heaved a tired sigh, the thoughts beckoning a familiar pang in his muscles. The full moon was six days away. He couldn't bring himself to look out the window too long at night, when it got this close. It made him want to be ill.

Remus stiffened, giving himself a shake and banishing the unwanted thoughts. He wouldn't do this right now; he couldn't. Instead, he continued to read in the dark of his bedroom without effort, his abnormal vision a constant, subconscious reminder of what he was trying to ignore.

He read on until the girl had gotten away from the dogs - the man she was traveling with enchanted them into kindness - and his eyelids were heavy again. He glanced over to the clock hung above the empty wall where his bookshelves sat - which he had to remember to put his books in tomorrow.

Three in the morning. He flicked his eyes closed, setting the book aside and rolling over, pulling his covers up to his neck - a nervous habit - and buried his face into the pillow, pinching his eyes closed and thinking about the sorceror from the book until sleep swept him away.

* * *

Remus woke at around six the following morning, his muscles twinging painfully. He grimaced. If the pain was this prominent this early on, it meant the transformation was going to be a bad one. He'd probably end up with more scars.

Sighing, the sandy-haired boy pulled himself out of bed and fiddled with the covers and pillows until the bed looked sort of made. He stretched his aching arms up toward the ceiling, twisting himself around slightly to loosen his spine before letting his arms fall back to his side. He reached for a discarded shirt near his hamper, picking it up and sniffing it hesitantly.

Giving a shrug, he pulled it over his head and smoothed out a couple of the t-shirt's wrinkles. He trailed over to his bedside table, picking up his book and starting down the steps of the eerily quiet Lupin household.

Mrs. Lupin was silently frying bacon over the stove when he entered the kitchen. She offered him a warm smile, but he couldn't miss the streaks of grey in her hair as he returned the look.

His transformations had taken a toll on her as well, leaving her unable to eat the first several times. She had spent many months arguing through the night with Lyall about finding a cure. Remus had heard it all, of course. He heard everything after that night, unless his father cast silencing charms.

It was near the full moon, and his mother knew it as well as he did, so neither said a word as he sank on to a stool at the island.

"Good morning," she said quietly after a moment, taking his bacon off of the pan earlier than the rest, folding it in a paper towel and placing it on the wooden island behind her, nodding to it.

"Morning," Remus offered cheerily in response, trying to ignore her somber mood as he dragged the paper towel of goodies toward himself. He settled his book a little ways to the side, and started up a light conversation about the story he was reading. His mom loved books almost as much as he did - it was the only thing around that time of the month that the two of them could talk about without forcing it.

Mr. Lupin was off work for the day, and he trailed out of his study (he liked to work from home the days he got off, usually on finding a cure, but he pretended it was normal work stuff) a few moments later. He didn't smile as his gaze fell upon Remus, and Remus ducked his head to hide the pained expression that simple lack of gesture caused him.

_It's not you, he's just in a bad mood,_ he told himself firmly, pulling his book toward himself protectively as his dad walked past the island, pecking his mom on the cheek in a good morning greeting.

The Lupin household spent the rest of the morning in the usual manner. Stiff conversation when Remus intervened, occasionally softening when his father's mood fluctuated, and then a bit of awkward silence as Remus prattled on to his mother about the book he'd read.

Things would go okay for a while, until there would be the off mention of holidays, or neighbors. Most of the family members on his father's side had abandoned them because of Remus's…_condition_. Remus wasn't allowed to meet the neighborhood kids. Muggles or not, Lyall insisted it wasn't safe.

Remus trailed over toward the window in the sitting room, leaving his parents to talking quietly and pushing open the window to let in a gust of fresh air. He'd had a bit of a fear of ground-level windows for a few years, and he still wasn't comfortable sleeping on the lower floors of a building, but he was proud to say that he'd gotten over his stupid aversion to open windows fairly quickly. He liked the fresh air.

As he prepared himself for a day of reading, there was a sudden rush of wind and the fluttering of wings as a horned owl swept in the newly-opened window.

Remus's eyes widened as the owl perched itself on his knee - completely unafraid of him as most animals were - and extended its leg, to which a strange looking letter was attached.

Lyall Lupin was already striding from the kitchen, expression bordering on irritated as he extended his hand to Remus, who had already removed the letter from the owl's leg. The owl promptly hooted, spreading its wings and soaring out of the open window almost immediately.

"Remus, give it here," his father said coldly as his son ran his finger over the large red seal over the back of the letter, his hazel eyes impossibly wide.

"It's to me," Remus said in a voice barely above a whisper, turning the letter over and looking up at his father, tapping his name on the front of the envelope with a look of disbelief and unadulterated excitement.

Lyall's expression darkened dangerously as he yanked the letter from his unsuspecting son's hands. "This is some kind of cruel joke," he snarled angrily as he took a few steps away from his son, flipping the letter over a few times. He pulled out his wand, beginning to cast a few quietly muttered spells over the envelope as Remus watched him in clear sadness.

Hope had entered the room now, eyes blazing with protective anger. "What is this?" she demanded in a quiet whisper, grabbing her husband by the elbow and looking to Remus and back to him very pointedly.

"I don't know," Lyall admitted quietly, pinching his eyes closed in irritation and bumping his glasses out of the way to rub at the bridge of his nose. "Dumbledore _knows_; he wouldn't do this to us. It's probably cursed," he muttered as he inspected the letter.

"Who's it from?" Remus asked, striding across the room with furrowed eyebrows. He knew the red letters that his father had received from his family (and promptly set on fire) were bad, but this letter had seemed perfectly ordinary. In fact, it seemed _better_ than ordinary. Remus could feel the light, happy, energetic magic that buzzed around its corners and off of its seal. He could tell it came from a place of good intentions.

He just _knew._

"No one, Remus," Mr. Lupin responded stiffly, looking down at his son with an all-too familiar look of deep regret and anguish. "I'm sorry," he offered.

Remus shook his head insistently, reaching out a hand. "You checked it, it's safe," he said, feeling urgently attached to the letter for some reason. "Please let me read it? It's for me." Remus could feel his heart rate picking up, the distinct feeling of impulsiveness he had become familiar with over the years igniting inside him.

Lyall held it from his son's reach, expression darkening. "Remus, that's enough," he said sharply, in a tone that sent Remus back a step, his expression properly wounded. "This letter could be dangerous. You don't open any of these. You find anymore and you come straight to me, do you understand?"

Remus bit his tongue to hold back the unreasonable, moderately inhuman anger he felt surfacing. He forced a jerky nod, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists as he struggled to control the raging temper. He wanted to break something. The moon made it more difficult - no, the moon made it all that way to begin with.

A growl began to build low in his chest but he swung around, trying to rationalize that the anger he felt was disproportionate to the situation. The letter was probably cursed to burn his hands, or give him painful boils, or claws. He'd opened a few like that when he was younger, from relatives on his father's side, when they had been addressed to him.

Then his parents had stopped letting him get the mail.

"I'm going to my room," he mumbled hastily, scooping up his book from the armrest where he had left it and making to move past the two. But just then, there was a quiet, rhythmic knock on the door.

Remus paused, spinning around with wide, curious hazel eyes. He could feel the magic from behind the front door, and a strange sort of scent was reaching his extremely acute senses. It was like fire, and ash. It reeked of power unlike anything a muggle had ever carried on them. And it had a hint of…_lemon_?

Lyall didn't seem to sense anything as he made his way over to the door, envelope still clutched in his hand as he opened it.

The door swung open to reveal a fairly tall, very old man dressed in vibrant purple robes. He had a long, greyish-white beard, and kind blue eyes that twinkled when they landed upon Remus.

"May I come in?" the man asked politely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

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**Author's Note:** _Thank you guys so much for the follows, favorites and reviews so far!_

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Lyall Lupin gaped in disbelief as his wife made her way over to his side, frowning in bemusement at the odd, old man.

"Dumbledore?" Lyall asked slowly, stepping back and gesturing for the man to step inside.

Remus felt rooted to the spot from where he stood in the sitting room. His eyes widened. Usually, when his father had guests over, he was to go to his room. It was safest that way. But the old man was looking right at him, smiling, and to Remus's absolute disbelief, he walked over to the sitting room next to him and glanced around quietly.

"Remus, go to your room," Lyall said abruptly.

"Mr. Lupin, if I may just request that Remus be present for our conversation as well?" the old wizard cut in politely as Remus turned toward the staircase, intent on finding one of his favorite books from one of the many boxes. Remus paused as the man's words began to register, and slowly turned around, looking a bit like a fish as he opened and closed his mouth.

"Please don't tell me you sent this letter Dumbledore," Mr. Lupin said slowly as he stepped into the sitting room, the envelope clasped tightly in his raised hand. "You had no right-"

"-I'm sorry?" Dumbledore asked with a slight frown at the man's enraged countenance. "I was under the impression that young Remus here expressed great magical talents."

Lyall shook his head in aversion as Remus gaped up at the man.

He felt his heart begin to beat faster, his palms beginning to sweat as he clenched a hand on to his book, his hazel eyes growing impossibly wide. The man was here for _him_. Dumbledore smiled down at him as if he could hear his thoughts, and it was then that Remus acknowledged that perhaps he could. He did his best to distract his mind with thoughts of his book as he avoided eye contact, tremors of excitement very subtly shaking his hands.

"You _know_ Dumbledore, don't pain us by making me say it," Lyall balked. "Remus could never - he isn't like the rest of them," he insisted, sinking into one of his chairs in the sitting room with an exhausted, regretful expression.

Hope lingered by his side, her eyebrows drawn together in motherly concern. "What's this?" she demanded, flitting a protective look over to Remus, who was still standing half in between the sitting room and the staircase.

Dumbledore raised both eyebrows. "No, indeed he is not like the rest of us," he admitted in a grave tone. "Remus is far more talented than most wizards his age, I am led to believe. Would you care to demonstrate for me, Remus?" the wizard asked politely as he settled into a seat on the sofa himself.

Remus nodded in a jerky fashion, avoiding looking at his father as he trailed further into the sitting room. He lifted his hand slowly, his heart leaping into his throat. He snapped his fingers, and sparks flew. Then a small, flickering flame jumped to life in his palm. He smiled unconsciously at the little fire. It was like a heartbeat, pulsing up and then breathing out.

Hope gaped in wonder at her son as a small smile lit up her eyes. Remus's hazel gaze was locked onto the flame, which he extinguished by merely closing his hand into a fist.

Dumbledore was smiling, eyes twinkling more than ever when Remus looked up. The young wizard returned the smile very hesitantly, nerves making themselves known once again. What if he hadn't been good enough? What if he needed to be able to do more? He could do more. He could make things float.

"That was very impressive," Dumbledore said. He was cut off, however, as he opened his mouth to continue.

"Stop this, Albus. Tell us what you mean by all of this and leave," Lyall spat, clearly angered now by the false hope his son was being given on a silver platter.

Mrs. Lupin shook her head. "I don't understand, Mr. Dumbledore."

Albus Dumbledore glanced between the two parents in surprise. "I was under the impression that Mrs. Lupin was aware of Hogwarts. I apologize-"

"-Hogwarts? You mean - school? You want Remus to go to school?" Hope asked suddenly, eyes widening in shock. "Dumbledore, you must know of Remus's - condition. It wouldn't be safe for him."

"Or the other children. You risk their lives Dumbledore by doing what you're suggesting," Lyall cut in darkly, his eyes cold with rage. Remus did not miss the meaning of those words as his excitement plummeted like a rock into the pit of his stomach.

The eleven year old boy felt distinctly ill as he glanced down at his own hands, mind flicking back to the last full moon. The freshest scars on his sides from where he had bit at himself stung in memory, and his expression tightened in pain.

"And for what does he go? You know how they treat his kind. He could get O's across the board and no one would hire a-"

Dumbledore raised a hand for silence, his blue eyes having gone cold with clear anger. "On the contrary, Mr. Lupin. Times are changing. I would employ a man with Remus's condition who qualified just as soon as I would any other wizard; I am not alone in this mindset. There have been great advancements toward controlling and tempering the symptoms of lycanthropy in recent years. I believe even perhaps by the time Remus has left school, he should find the world not as cruel as you lead him to believe."

Remus watched him in quiet wonder as he finished speaking, inklings of hope arising inside. What if Dumbledore were right? If there were people like him, who could accept him, then he wanted to go. He _needed_ to go.

"I brought you a spare letter, Remus. Would you like to read it?" Dumbledore offered gently when Lyall Lupin made no retort - only offering a look of defeat.

Remus nodded excitedly, extending a hand politely to accept the proffered envelope.

* * *

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Lupin,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 30 August._

_Yours sincerely,_

Minerva McGonagall

_Deputy Headmistress_

* * *

Remus gasped in wonder from where he stood in the busy street of Diagon Alley later that week.

"Mum, Mum look!" he whispered urgently, eyes lit with excitement unparalleled the past six years. He motioned to a joke shop when he finally garnered his mother's attention, his heart beating wildly.

It was the day of the full moon, and he felt admittedly very sick, but his mother had decided upon cheering him up by bringing him out for the first time in a very long time.

He'd met a couple other kids at the broom shop, but had realized belatedly he didn't exactly remember how he was to introduce himself. He'd ended up shyly maneuvering off toward the bookshop after that, but his mother had managed to coerce him outside with promises of ice cream.

Remus darted off toward the shop without waiting for a response, his mother following after with an amused expression as he wandered inside, drawing in a sharp breath of awe as he looked around.

The ceilings were unrealistically tall, and everywhere he looked there was something more amazing than the last.

_Invisibility Caps - Make your friends think you've really lost your head!_

_Savannah Candies - Transform your vocals into that of a roaring lion! Or a grumbling honey badger._

_Fart Potions - I think you know what these do._

A boy with a crow's nest of black hair and large, round glasses - who looked to be about Remus's age - ran up to him suddenly, eyes wide with glee.

"Oi, mate, tell him these are safe!" he said very quickly, wrapping an arm around Remus's shoulder as if he had known him his entire life. "You're my best friend, you'd vouch for me, wouldn't you?" He extended in front of Remus's eyes a bubbly pink potion that was very clearly one of the Nose-Hair Growing Draughts with the label torn off.

A younger-looking blond wizard - he was perhaps nine or ten - followed the bespectacled boy over looking very suspicious. He had a mean look about him, with pinched features and an air of arrogance.

"They're love potions, I told him, but he won't believe me. Imagine!" the bespectacled wizard who was still hanging off of Remus cried. "Go on, mate, tell him I'm honest if I'm anything. James Potter: Honest. That's what they say."

Remus hesitated slightly, trying not to give the boy who was now giving his shoulder a slight squeeze a weird look. "Uh, yeah, definitely looks like a love potion to me," he said in a rushed voice, trying to hide the amusement he felt at imagining the boy slipping it to a girl and watching her nose hairs grow to her toes.

The pinched-looking boy hesitated at this but nodded slowly as he observed Remus, accepting the potion from James and inspecting it closely. "You really think this will work?" he asked, looking up.

Potter nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely, she won't be able to stay away from you," he insisted.

The boy nodded eagerly, and to Remus's shock took a swig of the potion himself, spinning around and beginning to make his way over to a pretty girl at the back of the shop. The girl had long red hair, and vibrant green eyes. She tilted her head back and laughed as she played with one of the talking yo-yos, and the pinched-looking boy continued to stride toward her, completely unaware that his nose hairs were getting longer with every step. By the time he reached her, they were at his chin.

James burst into a fit of laughter, muffling them against Remus's shoulder before letting his arm fall off and standing back with a beam. He extended a hand. "James Potter. Well met," he said warmly.

Remus hesitantly clasped his hand, offering a smile in response. "Why did he drink-?"

"I convinced him they've both got to drink it if it's going to work," James explained. "What's your name?" he asked eagerly, tilting his head and fixing his glasses, which had begun to slip down his nose.

"Remus John Lupin," Remus said in one breath, cheeks reddening slightly as James gave him a slightly peculiar look.

Then the Potter boy laughed, tilting his head back and nodding. "All right, then, James _Charlus_ Potter. I'll call you… Johnny."

"And I'll call you Charlie," Remus returned, arching both eyebrows unthinkingly. He froze after that, realizing he'd probably just ruined any sort of friendship he'd started with the other boy. He frowned, looking at the floor as heat crawled up his neck from embarrassment.

James, to his shock, laughed cheerfully at this. "You do and I'll hex your eyebrows off," he called over his shoulder as he took off down the hallway without preamble. Remus watched him go in slight bemusement, unsure if that had went well or very poorly, and left the store a few minutes later feeling a bit unsettled but overall amused.

His mother was waiting outside when he returned, holding his list in her hands. Remus darted over to her, beaming.

"Next is a wand," she said, glancing away from the list to offer him a smile before looking back. "Where do you suppose we get one of those?" she mused.

Remus paused, looking around them before his eyes lit upon a shabby-looking shop at the southern end of the street. In peeling gold letters, read: _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._

"There," Remus declared, his mother trailing after him as he started down the sidewalk, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest with excitement and nervousness.

* * *

Remus reached hesitantly for the wand laid out in front of him, closing his fingers around the dark wood and wincing as it stung suddenly, a burst of ice jetting from the tip. He quickly dropped it back into its box, eyes wide with horror as he clutched his hand.

"Oh, oh no, no, no, no," Ollivander murmured, sweeping up the wand and shaking his head. "Should have known, yes, but of course, didn't imagine, no, peculiar. Very peculiar," he spoke almost to himself as he flitted in between the rows of boxes, eyes narrowed slightly as he murmured under his breath.

Remus felt anxiety curling up inside of him like a sort of monster. What if none of the wands could choose him because they knew what he was? Wands chose wizards, but Remus maybe didn't quite qualify.

"So light, so powerful, but tinged by darkness, yes," Ollivander murmured as he brought out an older-looking box, slowly setting it on the front desk and motioning Remus toward it. The young werewolf couldn't quite determine if the wandmaker was talking about the wand, or him, but he decided it didn't really matter either way.

With an air of exhaustion - this was easily the twentieth wand he'd tried - Remus pulled off the top of the box and removed the light cypress wand from its casing.

Warmth flooded up his limb, his eyes brightening minutely as his core buzzed with contentment. He gave the wand a wave, and sparks shot out, forming into a sort of bird made of light which then spun around Remus's hair with a flutter of its twinkling wings.

"Ten and one fourth inches, cypress, core of unicorn tail hair. Very pliable; naturally. Well met, Mr. Lupin," Mr. Ollivander said with a glow of respect in his eyes.

"What does it mean?" Remus asked quietly as he turned the wand over once in his hand.

Ollivander smiled. "I am always honored to pair a cypress wand, Mr. Lupin. For a cypress wand chooses only a wizard with a great willingness for bravery and self-sacrifice for heroic notions. Dark times are upon us," he said in a low voice, his tone darkening, "this wand has chosen you because it sees a destiny in which you play a part in stopping this darkness. And the pliancy of course; changing and yielding when needed.

"Pliable wands are particularly good for Transfiguration," he added, nodding to Remus, who was looking at him with distinct confusion. "And unicorn hair protects its owner most fiercely. It is good for those who are going to see many hardships, and need a sense of confidence within themselves."

Remus slowly absorbed the fact that he would see hardships, and apparently sacrifice himself for something heroic, all because he picked up a specific piece of wood. The more rational part of him immediately dismissed these notions as false, and he brushed off the anxiety he felt, offering Mr. Ollivander a polite smile of thanks as he paid for his wand and left the shop.

His mother had gone to the pet shop while he had been inside, and he exited to find her holding a cage that contained a young barn owl that tilted its head as it looked up at him.

Remus extended a hand toward the bars of the bird's cage hesitantly, blinking several times in an attempt to show that he wasn't threatening. Animals were always fine with him, until they smelled him. Then they ran off in terror.

The barn owl extended its beak toward him, closing it gently around the tip of his index finger.

Remus quirked a smile at the bird and Hope beamed. "The clerk said he was particularly brave," she said quietly, a quivering smile settling on her features as she watched her son, wand held loftily by his side, leaning in toward the bird.

"I'll name him Romulus," Remus said quietly, mind flicking back as he stroke the silky feathers on the young owl's chest.

"I think that's a beautiful name," Hope replied in a gentle tone. Remus looked up at her with a cheeky grin and she laughed in response.

"Can we get fudge?" he asked suddenly, eyes alighting upon a fudge cart that a wizard in an orange and blue polka-dotted tophat was setting up across the street.

"Of course," Hope replied quietly, her gaze flicking up discreetly to the sun that was now beginning to hang lower in the sky, checking when they would need to leave.

Remus didn't miss the look and his expression morphed with sadness as he felt a painful twinge in his neck, shoulders, back, and legs.

He'd nearly forgotten.

He swallowed hard, his breathing beginning to pick up as panic nearly took his mind. He edged away from his mother, a shudder rocking his entire form. The fear of the impending agony was something he hadn't learned to control. He was afraid. Afraid of himself and afraid of the moon, which was already in the sky alongside the sun, waiting until it could fill the blackened night.

He thought of his book, and shook his head as his mother extended a hand toward his shoulder. He stepped away. "Let's go home." He heard his own voice as if from a distance, his head spinning as his surroundings fizzled away and terror shook him.

He thought of the girl's fear as the dogs approached her, stalking through the undergrowth. She had known her doom was coming, had begun to resign herself to the agony. He understood that feeling well.

Except there was no sorceror to teach the dogs to be kind, in his story.

His mother guided him toward the floo networks that would take them home, and he managed to get his lips to form the name of his address as he stepped into green flames.

* * *

Two days passed. It was August 31st.

Remus smiled to himself from where he sat, propped up in bed with an outrageous amount of pillows, his socked toes peeking out the edge of the blanket. His wooden flute - a gift from mother's side of the family when he had first gotten 'sick' - was enchanted by his dad to play a quiet song, somewhere off to his left.

He set aside his book - a feather from Romulus now serving as his temporary bookmark - and reached for his wand. He beamed at the warmth that spread from his fingertips at the simple action, soothing the residual ache in his side where new injuries now marred his skin.

Humming, he set it back down and summoned over a brick of fudge with a wave of his hand. The monotony of laying in bed all day was anxiety-inducing, but he did his best to distract from it with chocolate; his mother claimed it was the illusive cure to all ills.

He shifted back, wincing at the pain the action caused. He glanced around the cramped space that made up his room and listened to the sound of sirens going off down the street outside his window.

He hated the city life.

Pinching his eyes closed in obvious exhaustion, the werewolf rolled over and buried his face into his pillow, sighing.

_Tomorrow. Tomorrow you start school,_ he reminded himself, letting the warmth bud in his chest and force a smile on to his tired lips. His mother was getting a bit jumpier about it, but she was incredibly calm in comparison to his father.

Remus's dad had shut himself in his office all hours of the day when he wasn't at work, now. Remus didn't even hear him leave to go to sleep. Perhaps he slept in there.

A swell of guilt filled the young wizard and his smile fell from his face as he rolled back over, staring up at the ceiling and feeling ill.

Last transformation had been a terrible one. Werewolf howls couldn't be dulled by silencing charms - they had some sort of magical quality. The police had been called last night because of the disturbance, but Lyall had promptly obliviated them and sent them away.

Remus felt some of the stress in his core ebb away as he realized that because he'd be at school, his parents might finally not have to move in a few month's time. They could finally regain some of the normalcy they'd had in their lives before the incident.

And his mother wouldn't have sleepless nights when howls shook the house from the basement up. She wouldn't cry.

He smiled sadly to himself, nodding and reaching over for the dreamless sleep potion set on his bedside table. He downed the necessary amount and rolled over to a slightly more comfortable position, before the magic in the potion pulled him into a state of easy unconsciousness.

* * *

"Remus? Oh! You're still sleeping, oh no - that's all right. I asked your father to wake you up - but - oh, Remus, get up," Hope Lupin called in a tone of clear anxiety, startling her son into sitting bolt upright, his hazel eyes still half-lidded with sleep.

Remus looked blearily around the room, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and wincing as his temples pulsed with a headache.

Excitement gripped his stomach as he noted the sunlight filtering in the windows.

He jumped out of bed.

"What time is it?" he asked his mother as he began fumbling through his wardrobe for clean clothes, picking out an outfit for the train while she shoved things into an unfamiliar trunk. "What's that?" he asked as he pulled his shirt off, ignoring the residual sting as he rubbed against the cursed scars and snatched up one of his favorite white polos.

"Oh, it's something I found for you the other day," Hope said quietly, a frown turning down her light features as she continued to pack, never looking up. "Students are required trunks, I was going to have it restored, and your name put on it - no time to explain now, I was hoping to surprise you with it," she said with a wave of her hand as she began packing in what she knew where his favorite books. "We'll have to get it redone over Christmas, remind me."

Remus paused in his dressing to admire the trunk in awe. It was admittedly very old and worn, but it looked incredibly story-book. It definitely fit with the air of magic he was used to in stories - inheriting some old, dingy relic that was secretly very cool. And he was going to a school to learn _magic_ and the trunk was-

"It's perfect, Mum, thank you," Remus murmured, his heart humming with excitement as he spun back around and continued getting ready.

Hope laughed slightly. "Remus, come here," she said as she straightened up, _Haroun and the Sea of Stories_ held in her left hand. Remus turned around to face her, hazel eyes wide as he walked across the room hesitantly. His mother pulled him into a quick embrace, which he leaned into despite the impulse to move away from the pressure against his scars that were still so new.

She smiled at him thankfully, looking motherishly overcome with emotion and Remus smiled slightly, averting eye-contact to admire his new, old trunk.

"It was your grandfather's," she explained lightly as she noticed his line of vision. "I figured you'd like it. You two have a lot in common."

Remus nodded. "I remember," he said.

"We'll go visit this summer," she promised quietly as she noticed his mood dwindling.

Remus nodded, a brightened smile forcing its way on to his features as he was once again overcome with excitement about where he was going. "Am I going to miss the train?"

"Not if we hurry," Hope replied with a smile.

Remus needed no further encouragement. He snatched up a copy of _Grimm's Complete Fairy Tales_ and _The Tales of Beedle and the Bard_, tossing them into his new trunk and quickly latching it closed. He paused, feeling as if he were forgetting something. His eyes lit with remembrance.

Spinning around, he snatched up his wand in its case from where it laid in his bed. He promptly tugged it from its container, tucking it away in his jacket pocket as he'd seen his father do a thousand times and turning to face his mother with a wide grin.

"Let's go," he said breezily, waving his hand once to propel the trunk into the air, and started out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Remus tugged his heavy trunk along effortlessly as he entered the platform with his father, a frown turning down the edges of his features. Lyall was exceedingly intent on Remus keeping his head down and avoiding drawing attention - that's why he was carrying his trunk now, instead of floating it. His mother, apparently, couldn't have taken him as he would have preferred. She had _work_.

Remus hadn't known his mother had started working, and was more than a little disgruntled by the information. Why was she working? Where was their money going? Why hadn't they told him? Why was she working at a _magical_ bookshop - couldn't muggle money suffice?

"Remus, stop that," Lyall murmured under his breath as his son began to walk ahead of him. "That trunk is heavy," he muttered, speeding up to match his son's pace.

Remus hesitated, nodding as his dad sent him an agitated look, and slowed to a more sluggish pace reluctantly. He looked at the kids around him and noticed the majority of them struggling along and felt a stirring of anxiety. He had to remind himself to fumble over things more often.

Lyall clapped a hand to his son's shoulder as the two stopped outside of the massive scarlet train. It blew steam from the top, whistling noisily as the largest group of kids began stumbling inside, shoving for room as they did and shouting good-byes to their parents.

The Lupins blended seamlessly into a more patient crowd, waiting for the rowdiest kids to get on before relinquishing their children.

"I have to-" the man started, his words seeming to catch on a strong emotion in his throat as he stared at his son, "go now. I have to go. Be - good, okay Remus?"

Remus looked up at his father - who looked as if he hadn't slept in quite a long time - and nodded. Lyall offered him a quivering smile in response, a dry laugh escaping him as he leaned down and drew his son into an unexpected hug. "Owl your mother and I tomorrow, we both want to know what House you're in," he said as he drew away, a smile still brightening his sleep-darkened features.

"Of course," Remus promised, bobbing his head in acknowledgement and glancing back toward the train as some of the final kids began to board. He didn't want to be the last one in - there would be no empty seats, and he would have to ask to sit next to someone, which would involve talking to someone.

The very thought made his stomach churn with anxiety, and his eyes widened slightly as the realization of what he was doing hit him like a sack of bricks. "Dad," he mumbled in a quivering voice, turning back to face his father, breath short with anxiety.

"You'll do great," Lyall assured him in a soothing voice, clasping his son on the shoulder firmly. Remus started forward, dragging his father into a hug with unusual force for someone of his size before relinquishing him just as quickly. The young wizard darted off toward the train without another word, tugging his trunk along behind himself effortlessly once more.

Lyall laughed, the motion shaking his tense form slightly as he let out anxiety, exhaustion, worry and amusement in the gesture.

Remus didn't bother glancing back.

* * *

"Oof," a small voice muttered, drawing Remus's attention as he started down the hallway, looking left and right and peering in the windows, searching to no seeming avail for an empty compartment.

The sandy-haired boy looked behind himself in puzzlement. He'd been sure he was the last one to board the train. However, obviously enough, that was untrue. There was an awkward-looking, chubby boy who had just tripped over his trunk who seemed to have scrambled on some time after Remus.

"Do you need help?" Remus offered quietly, pausing in his compartment-hunt as the boy nearly tripped over his extra bag as he pulled himself to his feet again.

The chubby boy looked up in a sharp, jittery way, eyes wide with anxiety as he bobbed his head in a nod. "Oh - I - y-yes, please," the boy asked, offering one of his heavier bags to Remus. The werewolf accepted the proffered package and the awkward other boy was now able to maneuver back on to his feet, looking very relieved.

He extended a hand, accepting the bag back from Remus with a look of thanks. "My name's Peter," he said kind of breathlessly as he swung the bag back over his shoulder.

"Hi," Remus replied, blinking at him. He had no idea how the boy had managed to push his trunk along all this way - as he had clearly been doing, seeing as how the trunk was situated in front of him instead of behind him - considering they were meant to be pulled. It was a most impressive feat indeed. "You should try pulling that," he offered quietly, turning back around and making his way down the line, still glancing in windows briefly and hoping for empty compartments.

Remus ignored the sounds of the boy grunting and stumbling over his trunk, clearly having taken his advice, and his gaze finally alighted upon a seemingly empty chamber. Sighing in relief, the sandy-haired boy threw open the door and headed inside, shutting the door unthinkingly behind him.

He waved his wrist once he was out of view, propelling the trunk magically into the air and setting it on to one of the luggage racks. Suspiciously, there was already another trunk sat just across from it, and another beside-

"How did you _do_ that?" a wonder-filled voice gasped suddenly. Remus spun around, eyes widening considerably at the familiar - yet entirely bizarre - sight of James Potter's head.

The bizarre bit being that _all_ he saw was James's head.

The bespectacled boy seemed to have misplaced his body and was now a floating head, chatting amiably in the middle of Remus's compartment - where moments ago, his head had clearly _not_ been.

"Could you teach me to do it? I mean, you didn't even use a wand, did you? Come sit," he said. The sound of the patting of cushions - accompanied by no actual patting of cushions - only furthered Remus's confusion. Not sure how to respond to the situation, the werewolf hesitantly sidled into a seat next to James's head.

"Ouch! That's my foot," the boy's head cried suddenly. Remus then distinctly felt him yank his shoe out from where Remus had settled his foot, and it was then that understanding dawned upon him.

James was somehow invisible.

Well, for the most part.

"It's good to see you again Johnny," Potter said amiably, undoubtedly holding out an invisible hand as he grinned.

"Charlie," Remus acknowledged him with a nod, hesitantly reaching into the air and feeling around for his invisible hand, shaking it with a slight grin.

James barked a laugh and just then the compartment was thrown open, revealing a nervous-looking Peter.

"Hi, can I sit with you?" he asked in a near-whisper, directing the question at Remus and then anxiously to the floating head of James.

James looked around.

"Mm, nope, no room," he said sadly.

There was another bench on the other side that was clearly empty, which Peter then hesitantly looked toward, appearing very sad.

"My invisible friends are sitting there, and then I'm saving one spot for another bloke," James obviously lied. Remus felt a swell of guilt as he watched the awkward-looking boy nod slowly, looking as if he may burst into tears, and he jumped to his feet.

"I can stand. Take my seat, Peter," Remus offered, gesturing to where he had been sitting. Peter sent him a look that spoke magnitudes of thanks as he began struggling to lift his bags above his head, putting them one by one up on the luggage rack. As he made to lift his trunk Remus stepped forward, shaking his head. "Let me help," he offered, pulling it from the boy's hands as he foresaw him dropping it on to James's invisible foot.

Receiving a look of thanks as Peter slid on to the edge of the bench, Remus lifted the trunk effortlessly over his head and shoved it on to the rack, the compartment door swinging open behind him.

"Woah, you're really good at this Remus - oh, serious!"

Remus frowned as he spun around, not comprehending James's sentence but not bothering to try to make sense of the odd boy's words.

Standing in the doorway of the compartment was a very clearly puzzled, black-haired wizard.

His expression was almost completely blank as he observed the scene with striking grey eyes - they were devoid of any blue coloration, from what Remus's exceedingly acute vision could detect. There was a strain of worry on his features as his gaze landed on Peter, and then settled on Remus.

The two locked gazes for a moment, grey eyes boring into hazel. Remus wondered if he should blink, hesitating before deciding it would be silly not to. He blinked several times for good measure.

The black-haired boy blinked back, and Remus continued to scan his features. His hair was crow-black, with no brown undertone. He had high cheekbones and a pale complexion that reminded Remus of James - for a moment he paused, wondering if the two might be related in some way, but quickly dismissed the notion.

The boy's aura was entirely different that James. Remus was not often consciously aware of it, but he could feel the magical waves that he used to bend things, like when he floated the trunks. The aura that followed the newcomer was nothing like Peter's or even James's.

It did bear a disturbing resemblance to Remus's own, however. He could feel the magic's temper, which Remus himself had learned to account to his lycanthropy. Never until then had he encountered it in another wizard. The magic felt volatile, alive.

Shivering slightly, Remus felt a stirring of curiosity.

The boy moved to sit on the empty bench, and Remus spoke up without thinking.

"You can't sit there, James has invisible friends."

"No, no, that's Sirius's seat. I told you I was saving one for a bloke, too. Besides, I was lying, I haven't gotten any invisible friends. You can sit too Johnny. Sirius - this is Remus. I met him at Gambol and Jape's. Since we're friends, I get to call him Johnny. Johnny - this is Sirius, the bloke I was saving that seat for," James explained as he shrugged off a sort of cloak, which had clearly been the source of his partial invisibility.

"_Woah,_ where did you get that?" Peter breathed, admiring the sparkling cloak with wide eyes as James folded it up in his lap.

James looked at him with a pleased sort of smile. "I got it from my father who got it from his father," he explained proudly. "It's an heirloom."

"What's an air - um, hair, heir-?"

Remus watched the boy - who was apparently named Sirius - observe the entire interaction in relative silence. Eventually, Remus slid into the seat next to him. He received an unreadable look in response.

"Remus Lupin," the sandy-haired boy introduced himself quietly, fidgeting with his sleeve as he silently wished he'd gotten out a book before putting his trunk away.

"Sirius Black," the wizard responded.

Remus nodded.

* * *

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Applause broke noisily throughout the Hall and Remus jumped from the stool, hands shaking imperceptibly as relief swept over him. His breaths came out short and quick as he strode across the length of the Hall, making his way toward the gold and red clad table.

Unthinkingly, the young wizard moved away from the widely smiling faces and inviting gestures, walking toward the far end of the table where the black-haired wizard from the train sat alone. At least four seats of space separated him from the rest of the Gryffindors.

Sirius Black. The Black Heir. Whispers were echoing across the hall from the green and silver table still, which Remus found impossible to miss.

_"Blood-traitor._"

"_Don't speak that, Orion would have your head_."

"_Here comes Bella, shut up._"

He looked up slightly as Remus settled into a seat a very short distance away from him.

Remus blinked at him, starting to offer a weak smile only to have Sirius avert his gaze and stare down into his lap.

Frowning, Remus fidgeted slightly, glancing back down to his plate as more and more students were sorted into the various Houses.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat roared the instant it touched the tips of James Potter's black locks. A playful smirking sort of grin spread across his features, the bespectacled boy hopped from the stool without preamble, dashing over to the cheering table and settling in among the most welcoming of the students.

Remus felt a small pang of loneliness but looked up, glancing at Sirius, and shrugged his shoulders. He hesitantly touched the edge of one of the spoons by his platter as more students were sorted, blocking out the buzzing sounds around him.

"These aren't real silver," Sirius spoke up almost unthinkingly, drawing Remus from his reverie. He tensed and glared as the sandy-haired blond pinned him with an inquisitive look. Remus felt a moment of panic, which he quickly buried upon realizing the other Gryffindor didn't mean anything by his comment.

Remus frowned slightly, nodded and looked back down at the silverware. He watched Sirius relax out of the corner of his vision.

The boy didn't seem shy, but from what Remus had gathered from the whispers, he was wealthy and pure-blooded. Which meant he probably knew that Remus wasn't.

At least he wasn't rude.

The chubby boy from the train - Pettigrew - was also sorted into Gryffindor, much to Remus's shock. He felt a pang of guilt for judging the boy so quickly, which quickly dissipated as he watched him slide into a seat beside James among the noisiest throng of students.

It was difficult to feel bad for someone he so poorly understood. The needy, clingy vibe Peter gave off was unsettling, and diminished any sort of empathy he might have felt for the boy beforehand. Remus silently scolded himself for feeling that way, knowing that he should be less judgmental.

Headmaster Dumbledore gave a small, nonsensical speech before dinner was laid out. Remus's eyes widened considerably.

Fillet, mashed potatoes, marinated chicken, rigatoni, garlic bread, lasagna, rolls, green beans, pudding, chocolate cake, pitchers of hot chocolate with sweet-smelling heat rolling off of them in every direction. The sandy blond felt his stomach turn hungrily as he swept his gaze along the table.

He glanced over to Sirius - noting the slightly different, more unusual array of food that was set up toward his end of the table - as he began filling his plate.

The two didn't speak at all throughout the meal, Remus considering it occasionally but always noting the way Sirius tensed up when he did.

"Did you want to be in Gryffindor?" Remus found himself asking without thinking, seeing some similarity in Sirius to a character in a book he'd read years ago. The boy had been brought up in the human realm, unexpectedly brought into the magical world as a dragon tamer when he was twelve. His family had never forgiven him, because they had despised magic.

"No."

Remus blinked at the numb tone, tilting his head slightly and nodding as he turned away in his seat.

"I'm going to be transferred," the dark-haired wizard continued. Remus's eyebrows rose into his hairline at the unprompted speaking from the other, and he frowned as he processed the sentence.

"You can do that?" he asked, feeling a stirring of hope. Maybe he could be transferred to Ravenclaw. The hat had definitely misplaced him, he thought as he glanced over to the table of quiet, reading and relaxed looking students clad in blue and compared it to James, who was now being boisterously cheered on as he floated pastries into a tower at least five feet high atop Peter Pettigrew's head.

"I can do anything I want," Sirius snapped in response, looking almost affronted. At the question, or the fact that Remus had become distracted by someone else while talking to him, he wasn't sure.

Remus glanced up to the enchanted ceiling as some of the students began to file out of the Hall, observing the constellations above. An unbidden smile played at the corner of his lips.

"You're Sirius, right? Like the star?" he asked, pointing to the brightest star in the faux sky and drawing a surprised look from the other first year.

The black-haired wizard smiled slightly, nodding as he looked up. He seemed to belatedly realize what he had done and quickly looked back down to his plate.

* * *

"You'll find your surnames - along with those of your dorm-mates' - on the door. After entering the first time, the doorknobs will be enchanted to open only for you and the names will be removed. Any questions, you can find me or a teacher. Any dorm problems, you will speak to Professor McGonagall, as she is acting Head of Gryffindor House."

Remus watched the prefect offer the first years a forced smile before making his way toward his own dorms without another word, ignoring the raised hand of one of the smallest first years.

Remus strode over toward a seat by the fire to allow the largest group of the students to find their dorms and shove their way through the halls. He much preferred waiting to wander around stupidly in private.

With that in mind, he fell into a seat by the crackling fire, sighing as his feet twinged in relief at the reprieve from standing. The sandy-blond watched sparks fly off of the burning wood, hitting the dark stone floor and the red and gold rug - which had a roaring lion embroidered on it.

He idly glanced around the common room, noting that maybe the Gryffindors weren't all so bad as he observed a chess game in the far corner. On the other side of the room, two Quidditch players were animatedly describing the last game of the year before with wild hand gestures.

After a few moments had passed, he picked himself up from his seat and maneuvered off toward the stairway to the first year boys' dorm.

* * *

Remus scowled to himself as he wandered down the long hallway. Most of the names on the doors had disappeared now, meaning that almost everyone had found their dorms already.

Except for him. Somehow, he hadn't exactly foreseen how he would be ostracizing himself when he had taken a brief nap by the fire. Groaning in frustration, he leaned heavily on a painting of a knight at the end of the hallway.

"Remus Lupin," the painting said proudly, startling Remus into jumping off.

"What?" Remus asked sharply.

The knight sent him an annoyed expression. "I am a door," the painting explained. "I read: Remus Lupin."

"You're a painting," Remus corrected unthinkingly.

The knight flexed his stubbled jaw, pulling down his helm to cover his face. "I am forbidden to challenge first years to duels. Consider yourself saved, boy," the knight spat angrily, his fist clenched around the hilt of his holstered sword. "I am a _door_," he said again, in a tone of forced politeness.

Remus blinked, nodding acquiescently.

He had hoped to find more than his name left on the - door. The lack of other names meant that his other roommates had already gone inside. Three strangers were waiting. Did Hogwarts have a form of hazing? It wasn't fair that they knew who he was but he didn't know them. What if they didn't like him? What if they were loud and rude? Not all of Gryffindor was bad, but they did somewhat resemble the 'jock' group displayed in muggle television shows.

"Do you know who's already gone in here?" he asked the painting hesitantly.

The knight rolled his eyes from underneath his helmet. "It's really silly of you to ask a door a question. As if I could answer!" he answered.

Remus sighed. "Please open, Door."

The knight nodded excitedly and the painting swung aside, revealing the dorm room he had spent the last hour searching for.

"Remus! You're here!" James Potter cried, startling the werewolf into freezing, panic-stricken in the doorway. "I was just about to go looking for you," the bubbly, bespectacled wizard said cheerfully. He kicked off his shoes - expensive trainers - and threw himself back on to what was clearly his bed, fiddling with an anti-gravity yo-yo and sending it flying into the air from his fingertips.

"The painting thinks it's a door," Remus said unthinkingly after a pause of watching the enchanted toy and feeling a twinge of irritation at Peter's blatant awe. The chubby boy really did try too much to flatter.

"The artist painted a door, then painted a knight overtop it a few years later," Peter clearly recited something he had been told, taking a break from his fanfaring for James.

Remus nodded slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to another as he ran out of things to say. He wandered off toward the left end of the room, where his trunk was pressed up against the bed.

He observed his surroundings silently as James continued some conversation he'd been having with Peter about Quidditch.

Right next to Remus's bed was a bed without a trunk or any other personal belongings next to it. James's and Peter's were on the right end of the room. "Whose bed is this?" he spoke up suddenly, accidentally cutting off a rambling story from James about how he could be a Seeker, Keeper, Beater and Chaser all at once.

"I don't know, it was empty when we came in," James said, spinning around on his bed to kick his feet over the edge and settle his chin in his palms thoughtfully. He wrinkled his nose to push his glasses back up the bridge, blinking.

Remus drew in a slow breath, tilting his head slightly. He felt a surge of magic, his mind shifted slightly, blotting out the language and noises of James and Peter as he observed the traces of scent in the room.

Faintly, just on the edge of the empty bed and trailing through the air and out the dorm, was the hint of scent of the wizard from the train and dinner. Dark-tinged, light and faint - though perhaps that just spoke of the age of the trail, as it had clearly been several hours now.

Sirius Black stormed into the dorm looking rather irritated, glancing left and then right. Remus blinked rapidly, switching his focus again.

"Sirius!" James cried, sitting upright. "Mate, where have you been?"

"We are not _mates_," Sirius snapped in response in a surprisingly aristocratic-sounding voice.

James shrugged. "Not yet, but we could be," he said optimistically, the cheeriness dropping from his tone.

"No," Sirius replied sharply. "I don't like you."

"Fine," James snapped in response, getting to his feet with an angry look on his face. "I don't like you either," he spat, a mischievous light burning in his eyes.

"Leave me," Black said, hands flexing and then clenching into fists as he stepped reluctantly toward his bed.

"But you know what they say - keep your friends close," James said cheerily, "and your enemies closer," he said as he stepped toward the taller boy despite the prior warnings. He gave Black a slight shove.

Sirius's grey eyes flashed and before Remus could really discern what happened, the two were having at it, punches being thrown in either direction and excited, keyed-up laughter bubbling from James, only to be cut short with a grunt of pain.

"_You're a wanker!_" James cried indignantly as the two fell to the ground, wrestling and kicking. Sirius pinned James after a moment of struggling and pulled back, clearly intent on decking him in the middle of the face.

Remus stepped forward unthinkingly, prying Sirius off of the other boy by his shoulders effortlessly and looking to James split lip with a flash of concern.

James looked gleeful as he scrambled upright, blood trailing down to his chin. He pulled back his fist and prepared to punch before Remus scrambled in between the two, holding Sirius back with one hand and giving James a very sharp, startled look. "James, stop!"

James paused momentarily, jaw falling slack slightly and his fist falling into his lap. "How did you do that?" he asked suddenly, tilting his head.

Sirius's breathing began to slow before he too frowned slightly, looking down at the single hand that had managed to restrain him. Remus drew back, flinching slightly under the inquisitive looks and shrugging.

"I, um, do push-ups?" he suggested.

Three sets of laughter responded in kind to Remus's shock, and he ran a hand slightly through his sandy-blond hair as he watched a smile spread across Sirius's features for the first time, crinkling the edges of his grey eyes as he got to his feet, unthinkingly helping James up off the floor.

James darted out a tongue to swipe off some of the blood stuck to his lip and motioned to Sirius's face. "You look a right-side better now," James offered.

Sirius gave a barking laugh in response, head tilting back slightly with the movement.

* * *

**Review what your favorite color is.**


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